


There's Nothing To Do But Try

by LovesFrogs



Series: Unrelated Irondad Drabbles [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Aunt May approved, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Emotional Health, Emotions, Fade to Black, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, May is like the wisest person here, Peter & Tony Big Bang, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Sexual Abuse, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, it's offscreen, spiderson, that ambiguous time where the Rogues are gone and Peter and Tony just get all the bonding time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovesFrogs/pseuds/LovesFrogs
Summary: Peter had a babysitter when he was nine who wasn't the best, but he's fine now. Really.Title and Chapter Titles from "Secret for the Mad" by Dodie





	1. Listen to Me Cry

_“Hey Einstein.”_

_Peter grinned. He’d never had a nickname before, but from the moment Skip had become his first friend, the older boy had given him a multitude of fun little titles.  
_

__

__

_“Hey Skip! Guess what?”_

_“You discovered the cure for cancer? It was only a matter of time, Squirt, I’m not surprised.” Skip nudged him playfully. Peter stumbled off the sidewalk, but recovered as fast as he could. He had to speed up to a weird half-walk half-jog to keep up with Skip’s much longer stride._

_“Ha ha. No, I was going to say that May and Ben invited you to come over and hang out while they have date night again,” Peter said quickly, cheeks heating up. He was smart and could definitely look after himself, but he was still only nine years old and Aunt May wanted someone to keep an eye on him. Luckily, Skip was willing and had already been hanging out with Peter for a few weeks._

_“Sounds great! I think I’ve figured out a new game for us to play while they’re gone,” said Skip with a strange little smile. “Don’t ask,” he added, before Peter could say a word. “It’s a surprise.”_

_Peter actually bounced all the way home. “Skip said he could totally come over today!” he told Aunt May, who didn’t even attempt to curb his excitement after that bit of news. “He said he was bringing a new game.”_

_“Sounds like you two won’t miss us at all, then,” Ben laughed, running a hand through his graying hair. “Be sure to tell us all about it tomorrow.”_

_“Sure!” Peter said. He was so excited that he could hardly pay attention to his math homework. May and Ben finally emerged from their room just as Skip rang the bell._

_“Oh, he’s here already,” May mumbled, fastening an earring before hurrying to the door. While she and Skip discussed dinner, emergency phone numbers, and whatever else they needed to go over every single time Skip watched him, Peter tried to think of what Skip’s new game could be. He hadn’t been carrying a box, so it wasn’t a board game. Maybe it involved the old soccer ball in the closet? Or it was some kind of thinking game and didn’t need toys at all…?_

_Peter’s thoughts were interrupted by a kiss on his forehead. “Bye Peter, we love you!” Ben grinned. “Don’t make Skip chase you all night, alright?”_

_“Yeah, yeah,” said Peter, rolling his eyes. Aunt May laughed heartily before she shut the door behind them._

_“Alone at last!” Skip cackled, rubbing his hands together like a plotting villain. “Einstein? What shall we do first?”_

_It was just a normal night with Skip._

_Until it wasn’t._

_“Hey Squirt, we’re friends, right?”_

_Peter grinned widely. “Yeah!” He’d never had a real friend before, much less an actual high school senior! Skip was the coolest person he knew._

_Skip sucked in a breath.“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I have a little favor to ask.”_

_“Sure,” said Peter._

_“I want you to touch me right there.”_

_Peter looked from Skip’s face to his pointing finger in utter bafflement. “Why?”_

_“It’s like a next-level friendship thing. Don’t worry, Einstein, it’s totally normal.”_

_“Are you sure?” Peter attempted to raise one eyebrow like he’d seen Tony Stark do on TV once. “It seems a little weird.”_

_Skip shrugged. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Squirt, but I know you haven’t exactly really had friends before. You might not have encountered this yet. I think you’ll be great at it, though, it’s like a bonding activity.”_

_Peter bit his lip, heart sinking. It was true that he hadn’t had any experience in the friends department at all. No one wanted to be next-level friends with the nerdy genius kid who didn’t know when to stop talking. Maybe Skip was right. “Okay, I’ll try,” he whispered._

_Skip unzipped his pants._

_-_

_Peter didn’t like Skip’s new “bonding activity” game, but he didn’t want to lose his friend either. Besides, as Skip had pointed out, they’d done what Peter wanted the whole time before that, so it was Skip’s turn to choose the game. “Real friends,” said Skip, “sometimes have to think about what the other person wants to do.”_

_“I think May and Ben have told me something like that,” Peter agreed nervously, his belly aching. How horribly selfish would it be to deny Skip his favorite game just because Peter felt a little uncomfortable after trying it for a round?_

_They kept playing._

-

Peter Parker hated nicknames. He had since he was nine years old, and he was used to it now. He even told people sometimes as a fun fact in those get-to-know-each-other games that teachers insisted on to start the school year: “Hi, my name is Peter Parker, I live in Queens, and something interesting about me is that I hate nicknames.”

He’d thought he was over it. Peter hadn’t seen his old “friend” since Ben called the police while May had threatened him with a frying pan when Peter was almost ten. He hadn’t flinched from a touch since he was twelve, and he wasn’t nervous around adult men anymore. Really, he wasn’t. He’d even gotten himself released from therapy when he was thirteen, and he knew May and Ben were glad for one less expense.

Peter had been completely fine.

Until he wasn’t.

In one single night Peter’s world shattered. Ben got shot. Peter got freaky spider powers.

Sometimes, Peter felt like he got the harder end of the deal. But he’d survived before, and the last thing Ben would want was for Peter to give up on his life now, so Peter decided to honor Ben the best way he could: by stopping guys like that mugger so that Dads and Uncles and brothers like Ben could get home safely. ~~By fighting for little Peters against their own babysitte--.~~

Peter cried and moved on. He ate May’s terrible cooking and he aced his homework assignments and his scholarship and he moved on. He joined the Decathlon team and made a real best friend named Ned. It took six months for him to trust Ned in his bedroom, but his friend didn’t seem to mind.

Ned called him Peter, Pete, or Parker, plus the occasional “Dude” or “Man”. He called him “Honey” once, in a joking, syrupy voice. Peter took a few deep breaths and bit his bottom lip hard enough to bleed. Ned didn’t ask, and Peter didn’t tell, but ten minutes later Ned muttered an awkward but sincere “Sorry,” and never called Peter anything else again.

Flash called him “Penis Parker” one time and one time only. It was at lunch. Peter punched him in the face.

“He called me Penis,” Peter told Aunt May when she walked into the office with a pinched frown and confused eyes, “and then he grabbed me.”

“Oh, Peter,” she breathed, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She didn’t quite manage to talk the principle down from Peter’s two day suspension, but she did get Flash an equal punishment and a permanent note on his record. Peter had never been more thankful for his Aunt in his life.

When he was almost fifteen, Peter started dressing up in a flashy suit and helping people under the alias Spiderman using his new super strength and his homemade spiderwebs. He probably could have come up with a more creative name, but this one would have made Ben laugh.

Peter didn’t want to be famous, just to help out the little people that the mainline heroes didn’t have time for. He punched muggers in back alleys, helped cats out of trees and broken fire escapes, escorted old ladies across the street and walked young women home from work in the dark. Once in a while he stumbled upon a dickhead getting handsey. He liked giving them black eyes more than he probably should.

Tony Stark shoved his way into Peter’s life at the start of his sophomore year and never really left. The man had been Peter’s hero since before Iron Man even existed. Nothing gave little, lonely, genius Peter more hope than turning on his TV and seeing someone short and smart like him changing the world. Peter knew that Tony Stark fought for good, defeated bad guys (but only the big, visible ones), and saved people. They even started up a decent mentor/friend/sort-of-family relationship where Peter did his best to help around and Mr. Stark got upset when Peter was in danger.

They were getting along well.

Until they weren’t.

The thing about Tony Stark was that he was basically an armored tank given flesh. He rolled over everyone to get where he wanted to go, it was incredibly difficult to breach all his personal walls and boundaries, and he was surprisingly bad at picking up on what the people around him were feeling. That wouldn’t have been too much of a problem for Peter except that everyone Mr. Stark liked got at least one nickname, no matter how they felt about the matter. 

When Mr. Stark saw Peter’s glorified sweatsuit of a costume he deemed him “Underoos” and never looked back. 

_“Heads up, Underoos!”_

__

_“Pass me that wrench, Underoos.”_

__

__

_“Underoos! Come on in, you know how lab days are by now.”_

__

__

No matter how much Peter folded his arms in on himself and rolled his eyes and tried to say his name was _Peter, come on, Mr. Stark,_ the billionaire didn’t seem to register that Peter was actually uncomfortable. 

Peter could deal, though. It was fine.

See at this point he had thought back on Skip sometimes in the safety of his bottom bunk, and he’d talked about him with the therapist when he was thirteen. Peter couldn’t remember one time when Skip called him by his actual name. 

“He was distancing himself from you and from his own actions,” Peter’s therapist had explained once. “If you didn’t say his name and he didn’t say yours, it was easier to separate away what he was doing.”

That was not what Mr. Stark did. For one, He called Peter by his actual name at least a third of the time. For another, Peter knew that Mr. Stark only gave nicknames when he cared. The more he liked someone, the more ridiculous and persistent the names were; Peter had suspected it for a while, but it was confirmed when he heard Mr. Stark refer to Colonel Rhodes as “Honeybear” and “Platypus” on several occasions for no discernable reason. Plus, no one forgot the infamous Virginia “Pepper” Potts. 

Peter personally wondered if Mr. Stark was simply terrible with names and didn’t want to admit it.

So even though “Underoos” made Peter’s skin crawl, he didn’t tell his hero to stop. Even when Mr. Stark didn’t quite realize how much trust he was asking for when he invited Peter to hang out in his workshop, just the two of them, alone at last, Peter didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t have known how if he’d wanted to.

The breaking point came on a Friday night. Mr. Stark had invited Peter to stay over for an engineering sleepover, so Peter was staying over in a guest room for the first time ever. He hadn’t slept anywhere aside from his bedroom with the door locked since before… before. But one did not simply refuse Tony Stark. So Peter had brushed off May’s fussing and concerned glances and packed an overnight bag with hands that only shook a little. Adult men didn’t make him nervous. They didn’t.  
But then he was down in the lab with Mr. Stark, making tentative suggestions and basking in the engineering whirlwind that was his mentor on only a few hours of sleep, and Mr. Stark just had to go that final step.

“Why didn’t I notice that? You see that, Peter, this is why you’re going places,” he said, clapping his hand on Peter’s shoulder, “It’s like having my own little Einstein shut up down here with me.” 

There might’ve been more, but Peter didn’t hear it. There was a rushing sound in his ears and he was alone with a grown billionaire who could get away with whatever he wanted and had a hand on Peter’s shoulder and a _little Einstein shut up down here with him._

Mr. Stark’s mouth was still moving, but the words were distant. “Hey, Underoos? You with me?”

“MY NAME IS PETER!”

The words burst out of him full force, as Peter wrenched himself away and sprinted for the door. Luckily, Mr. Stark was too shocked to stop him as Peter hurled up the steps and into his guestroom. His door had an electronic lock, but Mr. Stark could get through that faster than Peter could say “Einstein”. Instead, he headed for the bathroom and bolted the door shut behind him.

Peter rocked back and forth on the bathmat in the corner for what felt like hours before his heartbeat started to slow down.

“Mr. Parker?” FRIDAY’s voice filtered in through the door. “Boss would like to talk whenever you’re ready.”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered as his brain frantically rushed through every possible option from going and yelling at his mentor to climbing out the window. “Talk, right. Of course.”

He waited a good ten minutes before standing up and facing himself in the mirror. His red-rimmed, puffy eyes stared back. Stupid, you knew he wasn’t going to do anything. Now he’s never going to let this go, he thought. Still, it’s kind of Mr. Stark’s own fault for not noticing until we came to this.

With a sigh, Peter left the bathroom and pulled open the bedroom door. Then immediately jumped back when he found Mr. Stark pacing just outside. There was a long, awkward silence while they stared at each other before Mr. Stark gestured vaguely and said, “So… can I come in?”

“No,” said Peter quickly. “I think I need some hot chocolate. Can we sit in the kitchen instead?” Mr. Stark gave him an indecipherable look before he stepped back once more.

“Hot chocolate it is.”

They were silent again as they walked to Mr. Stark’s ridiculously large kitchen, and throughout the hot chocolate-making process. Peter tried to pull himself together. _You have nothing to be ashamed about,_ said his brain. It sounded like his old therapist. _No, but it’s still embarrassing!_ Peter responded. _What is he going to think after he pulls this out of me?_

Peter pushed himself up onto the counter and cradled his mug between his hands. 

“So,” said Mr. Stark, mug in hand as he leaned against the counter next to him. “Care to explain what that was?”

Peter swallowed.

“Because I, for one, am a little confused. You’ve never done that before, and I’m sure I’ve seen you in worse places than safe in my workshop. Did it overwhelm your senses? Is that it? I’m sure I can whip out some glasses or earplugs or--no? Work with me kid, shaking your head doesn’t give me a lot of clues here.”

Peter swallowed again before glancing up at Mr. Stark. To his surprise, the man appeared to be genuinely concerned and maybe even a little… nervous?

“It was just too much,” said Peter quietly, twisting the mug in his hands. It had a cartoon ironman flying over rooftops illustrated on it.

Mr. Stark broke the silence after another minute of them both fidgeting. “So it was your senses? Why didn’t you say anything, I would’ve--”

“It wasn’t that,” Peter said. “I just--I--You called me Einstein and you--and--”

“Wait.” Mr. Stark held up his mug, his brows furrowed with confusion. “You freaked out because I called you Einstein?”

“Yes. No. I hate nicknames.” Peter buried his face in his hands. “It’s complicated.”

“Try to uncomplicate it for me, here,” said Mr. Stark. 

“I was… he… when I was a kid there was this guy--he was my friend, at the time, this high schooler, and I was like nine, and I didn’t have any friends, but he was one. So I was pretty psyched about it and he babysat sometimes and he… he…” Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow, the same way he did on TV sometimes, and Peter was struck with a sudden image of nine-year-old him trying to imitate that exact expression. Somehow, it made him feel a little braver. 

“He never called me by my name, and I never called him his. Skip. That was him. I was Einstein, usually, or Squirt or Honey or… anyway my therapist said it was so he could make it more impersonal and not have to face it, you know? Like not using our real names would somehow disguise the fact that he raped a kid.”

Peter paused, and there was one suspended second of silence before Mr. Stark’s mug shattered on the ground, splashing hot chocolate over the both of them. Peter jumped a mile and whipped his head up to meet Mr. Stark’s wide eyes.

“What did you just say?” he whispered, searching Peter’s face like there was some sort of hidden message there. 

“I--I hate nicknames and… don’t make me say it again,” said Peter, looking down at the glass shards below him. “He’s in jail now, maximum sentence. I haven’t spent the night away from home since then. You’re lucky May was right outside the door when we met or I never would have let you into my bedroom.”

Mr. Stark hardly seemed to hear him. “All this time,” he murmured, still staring. “And you never said anything, of course, and then I practically forced you to spend time alone with me, some random old man who could… oh God, Peter, do you want to leave? I am so sorry, can I…?” he trailed off.

Peter looked up to find his mentor reaching out a shaking left hand, apparently asking permission to touch his shoulder. That, more than anything else, calmed him the rest of the way down. Honestly Mr. Stark seemed to need more comforting than Peter did, and he knew that the man wouldn’t touch him again if Peter told him no. He nodded.

Mr. Stark gripped his shoulder. “Peter, if I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable again, you have to tell me. I swear I won’t be mad. I know I’m pretty awesome, but this kind of thing is not exactly my strong suit, okay?”

“Okay,” said Peter. “No more nicknames? Please?”

Mr. Stark grimaced. “I’ll do my best, Kid--Peter!” he corrected quickly, stumbling back as he avoided mug shards. “I meant Peter! Peter. Yup.”

Peter smothered a giggle as Mr. Stark fell into a nearby chair. “I’m usually okay, but… here’s the deal: no calling me Einstein, Squirt, little anything, or any form of Honey or Baby. Try to stick to my name or Spiderman if possible, but I know you have issues with this for some reason. I will almost never freak out with most other nicknames, but I really do not like any of them.”

“No nicknames,” said Mr. Stark, nodding to himself. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I might post another chapter later if I feel inspired.  
> Note: all the the therapy in this chapter is completely made up by me based on almost irrelevant psychology classes. I also have roughly zero experience with abuse victims, so if I have misrepresented anything please let me know and I will fix it asap!


	2. They Don't Get It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes a mistake, and then Peter does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a response! Y'all have encouraged my muse enough that I marked this in-progress and I will definitely have at least one more chapter after this one. Thanks for the positive feedback!

Things improved for Peter after his talk with Mr. Stark. The man wasn’t perfect by a long shot, but he limited himself to Spiderkid, Kid, and variations of Peter’s actual name, depending on the situation. Peter received another invitation to spend the night at the tower a month later, and he grinned widely to himself in the middle of the hallway when he saw how carefully Mr. Stark had worded the text.

**Boss Man**  
_If you have nothing else to do feel free to drop by on Friday for some lab time. Your hot aunt approved you to stay until Saturday but you can leave anytime and DUM-E has free reign with the fire extinguisher in case I act like an ass_

It was nice to know that the man he was tentatively building a mentoring relationship with cared enough to go at Peter’s pace. He hesitated for a minute before sending back a message.

**Peter**  
_I suppose I can handle some science with the worlds top leader in tech_

**Boss Man**  
_You good with Happy? He’s not the only driver out there if you want me to find a cute girl to take you places ;)_

**Peter**  
_Are you kidding? I almost got him to smile last time. Im not giving up now!! Ill see him after school tomorrow_

**Peter**  
_Ps if you ever send another ;) I will shun you_

**Boss Man**  
_Your little fanboy heart couldn’t handle it_

**Boss Man**  
_;)_

**Peter**  
_ >:( _

Peter shoved his phone into his pocket and walked into English just as the bell rang. Mrs. Bolbowski gave him an exasperated look, but he wasn’t tardy so there was nothing she could do about it. Peter knew she liked him anyway.

That night it was hard to concentrate on his homework. The next day was going to be another lab day with his idol, not to mention his nerves about spending the night again. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time, but Peter couldn’t just turn off his apprehension all at once. 

By the time the clock hit eight Peter knew he wasn’t going to get anything else accomplished. His brain was going in a continuous loop of lab ideas, Mr. Stark, staying overnight, and a few traitorous thoughts of Skip. Different images began to bombard him: Stark tower, dark and menacing against the night sky; Mr. Stark calling him Einstein and dragging him toward the stairs; Peter laughing and eating pizza with his mentor on the couch.

He knew that he had nothing to be nervous about, but his brain just wouldn’t seem to listen to logic. Peter could text Mr. Stark that he suddenly had plans or just plain felt uncomfortable about the whole thing, but he really was looking forward to hanging out and doing science with him. May was working late at the hospital, and Peter knew if he told her she’d just worry more than she already did. Instead, he called his best friend.

“What’s up, man?” said Ned.

“I can’t concentrate on anything. Mr. Stark invited me to work in his lab tomorrow and stay overnight,” Peter told him.

“DUDE!” Ned yelled so loudly that Peter had to pull the phone away from his ear. “Why didn’t you tell me, oh my gosh! What are you going to work on? Is he going to let you make your own armor?”

Peter paused for a minute to let himself imagine the sheer amount of coolness that would be involved in flying an iron man suit. “Nah, but that would be awesome! How do you think he controls all that crap at once and manages to fly and fight at the same time?”

“He’s a hero, duh. What if he installed thrusters in the Spiderman suit?” Ned said. “That would be so cool, Peter, you have to make him show you how to fly!”

“Are you saying Spiderman won’t be cool enough for you unless he can fly too?” said Peter. “I swing around on homemade webs, man! That’s cool!”

Ned scoffed. “Cool if you’re actually an insect, you mean. Face it, Peter, you will never be as awesome as Iron Man.”

Peter grinned, even as he lightheartedly protested. Talking to Ned always helped him slow his thoughts down when they were starting to speed up out of control. When they hung up the phone ten minutes later Peter finally felt relaxed enough to grab a snack and scroll through his Instagram before heading to bed. He would need to be well-rested in preparation for staying up until dawn in Mr. Stark’s workshop.  
.  
.  
Tony didn’t know how these criminals had managed to sneak into his penthouse, but he had a feeling they might have forced open his relatively undefended new Spiderman window. That was first on the list of things to fix after he wiped the floor with these idiots. They’d been attempting to shut down FRIDAY from the living room when he’d found them, but all they’d managed to do was put the room on lockdown with FRIDAY unable to access it and Tony stuck inside at gunpoint with no suit.

Just a typical Friday afternoon.

“Stark,” said a burly man in a ninja turtle mask. “Listen, nothing personal, but you’re going to have to hand over some of your precious machine designs.”

“Nothing personal,” muttered a woman as she pointed her gun at his face. “We say to the man who killed my sister.” Tony’s desire to laugh at her matching turtle mask dwindled.

Tony twitched his hand lower, toward the alert button hidden on his glasses. “Nothing personal,” he said, pulling them off and pointing at the man as he deftly pressed the button, “but I’m going to have to decline your offer.”

Every employee would have received an alert from their Stark Industries app, telling them there was a situation upstairs and to head for their floor’s designated shelter area. FRIDAY would lock the doors so that no one new could enter the building. With a pang, Tony remembered how excited Steve had been that there were ways to do such a thing now.

“Really, Stark?” said the man. “Are you so selfish that you’ll sacrifice everyone in this building for a few little plans?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, an expression saved exclusively for villains and the press that he would never, ever admit to practicing in the mirror.

“He’s right,” the woman said. “Maybe we should bring one of them up here for a small demonstration?”

Oh, so that’s how they wanted to play it. Tony knew that his watch could turn into a gauntlet if he could steal about 5 seconds while they were distracted, but the stakes would be much higher if there was an innocent employee in the room. He would have to play this carefully. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he told them. “You never know what--”

He cut himself off as his phone, confiscated by the burly man, began buzzing loudly. The only people who had this number were either hundreds of miles away or… _Peter._

The criminals must have seen something in Tony’s expression that he wasn’t aware of, because the woman grinned viciously and tightened her stance while the man actually walked over with the phone. Peter’s contact picture, some nerdy meme because Tony didn’t want to display pictures of those close to him all over the place, flashed up at him in accusation. Of course his fake intern hadn’t downloaded his emergency app. Of course.

“Make this one suspicious and we’ll kill ten others,” said the man. “No side stories, no extra words.” Then he answered the call on speaker. Tony’s heart beat a little faster.

“What’s up, kid,” he said, fighting to steady his voice. How could he alert Peter to a problem without these goons noticing?

“Hey Mr. Stark! Happy dropped me off a few minutes ago, but the doors are locked and he left right after I got out to pick something up or something. Do I need some kind of code to get in?”

Oh shit. Happy would be driving, not looking at his phone, so there was no one to tell Peter what was going on. Tony glanced at the woman out of the corner of his eye. She met his gaze unwaveringly; there was no way she’d let him get away with anything obvious, but Peter was too oblivious to take a subtle hint.

He only had one idea. He just hoped Peter would forgive him later.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he said. “The office is closed today. You’ll have to find a different place to spend your smarts this week, Einstein. I’ll see you around.” 

“Mr. Stark--” whatever Peter was going to say was cut off as the man ended the call. The silence seemed to stretch out for an eternity as the man slipped Tony’s phone into his pocket. Tony hoped Peter understood that there was a problem and he was supposed to get out of there pronto, because otherwise all this guilt would be for nothing.

“The plans, Stark,” said the woman. 

“Well I don’t exactly have access to my computers now, do it?” Tony said. “Where exactly are you expecting me to get them?” The woman didn’t bother to answer. She gestured at the man, who pointed his own gun at Tony. She then pulled out her phone and began fiddling with it before removing a chip she’d shoved in the wall panel on arrival.

“Boss?” FRIDAY’s voice called over the speaker. “The living room is back online. What would you like to do?”

Tony had built FRIDAY from the ground up. There was no way these idiots were aware of what she was capable of, but he thought he’d play along for now while his AI took stock of the situation and called him a suit or something. She would have gotten a message when he pushed the alert, so there should be help on the way at any moment.

“These… people have a few things that they want the specs for. Do me a favor and load them onto a flashdrive, would you?”

“Of course, Boss,” she answered, perfectly neutrally. “Delivering specs now, please standby.”

They waited in silence for what felt like hours. Tony was the only one to notice when the electronic locks all flipped to open. However, even he was surprised when Spiderman swung in right beside the suit that FRIDAY had sent. Peter didn’t hesitate, webbing the man’s gun to the wall and knocking him out before he knew what hit him. 

“Heads up!” Tony yelled as the woman drew her own weapon. Peter latched onto the ceiling as she fired, dodging both the bullet and the repulsor blast that Tony shot out in retaliation. She flew back into the TV, clearly out cold. It was too bad the poor TV had to suffer for these stupid criminals’ mistakes. 

Tony pulled back out of his armor as Peter tied up the baddies with his webs. “That was a good one, Pete,” he said. “Although not exactly what I had in mind. I could have handled it, you know, I’m not that old yet.”

Peter didn’t answer. As the silence stretched uncomfortably, Tony realized the normally chatty hero hadn’t said a word since he came through the door.

“Peter?” he said hesitantly. “Look, I’m so--”

“What? You’re sorry?” said Peter, walking forward until he was nose to nose with Tony. “What the hell, man? Out of all the warning signs you could’ve picked, you had to call me _that?_ I thought I could trust you!”

_He’s just lashing out because he’s hurt,_ Tony told himself, but that didn’t stop the sinking feeling in his gut. Peter’s anger wasn’t for nothing, after all. “I panicked, alright?” he said. “I’m sorry, but it was the only thing I could think of that they wouldn’t notice.”

“Seriously? Your only possible red flag was potentially triggering memories of my freaking abuse?” Peter turned to leave. “Some genius you are.”

“Peter, wait!”

“What, so you can cause me another panic attack?” the kid tossed over his shoulder. “Just stay away from me.” 

“I’m not about to let your 15-year-old butt get hurt if I can help it, Peter,” Tony tried. 

Peter whirled back to face him. “Stop doing that!” he said. 

“Doing what?” said Tony, confused.

“That whole pretending to care about the poor abused kid thing. I know you’re just humoring me! You think I haven’t seen what the press has said about you? I always thought there was a good guy behind that, but I guess I was wrong. So just stay away.”

He jumped out the faulty window and was gone before Tony could get another word in. He slumped against the couch and put his head in his hands.

That could have gone better.


	3. There Will be a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May is actually the coolest of us all.

Peter didn’t know whether to feel angry or guilty when he woke up on Saturday morning after his fight with Mr. Stark. On one hand, the man had definitely made a mistake calling Peter the name, and Peter was not happy about that. On the other hand, it _had_ been a delicate situation and it had immediately alerted Peter to that fact.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about all the terrible things he’d said after webbing up the bad guys. Instead, Peter groaned and buried his face back under his pillow.

“Peter? Is that you?” May’s voice drifted into the room. A minute later she knocked and opened his door. “I thought you were going to stay with Tony. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Peter.

“Bull,” said May, leaning against the doorframe. “You always want to talk. Come have some breakfast and hit me with it. We have Eggo waffles and everything, up you get!”

Peter grumbled, but it wasn’t worth trying to stay in bed with May’s prodding and the smell of waffles drifting through the open door. He shuffled over to the toaster and avoided May’s searching look by fiddling with the dial and focusing intently on his breakfast. Eventually he had no choice except to grab a fork and sit down across from her at their tiny table.

“So,” said May, leaning forward, “what happened?”

Peter took a deep breath and told her everything. From Happy leaving him alone before he realized the door was locked, all the way to Mr. Stark calling him… _that,_ and the awful, terrible words he had yelled back at the man. 

“And I feel horrible, May, because I _know_ that he didn’t mean it that way, and I do trust him, and I know he’s not like they say in the tabloids. I just wanted to… I don’t know. I don’t know, but I’m so angry and he shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have, Aunt May.”

Peter fidgeted as she nodded slowly. “No he shouldn’t have, Peter,” said said. “But he did, and you have every right to be mad about that.”

Peter bit his lip.

“Here’s a few questions to think about though,” May continued. “I know you and Tony were doing good before this. Do you think he would have made you feel this way on purpose?”

“No,” said Peter slowly. “I don’t think he could if he tried. Mr. Stark isn’t very subtle.”

May smirked a little, but continued in an even voice. “Okay, so Tony at least didn’t want to hurt you intentionally. That doesn’t make it okay, of course, but we’re pretty sure he isn’t malicious. Here’s another one: do you think you two can come back from this, and do you think you should? Is this mentor-whatever relationship good for both of you?”

“I…” Peter considered that for a while as he chewed a bite of waffle. “I like Mr. Stark. He isn’t a bad guy, and he was really great when I freaked out last time and told him about the thing. I’m not sure how he feels about me, but he doesn’t seem to mind having me around.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility of making up?” May asked.

“I mean, I could try. Things might be different, but if he still wants me around…”

“Sounds like you’d better find a way to apologise then,” said May with a smile. “That’s what the rest of us normal people do when we hurt someone we care about. And if Stark doesn’t also say he’s sorry too, then you send him to me and I’ll deck him for you, alright? I think you two just need a good, long talk.”

Peter laughed. “Deal.” 

They shook on it.

By the time Monday rolled around Peter still hadn’t come up with a plan to apologise to Mr. Stark. He couldn’t just call. What if Mr. Stark never picked up the phone again? And what was Peter supposed to say? If only he could write a script and just read it without Mr. Stark interrupting.

“Dude, just send him a video of you talking,” Ned told him between bites of his ham sandwich at lunch. “He can’t stop you if it’s not a live conversation.”

Peter stared at him. “A video?”

“Yeah, you know those recordings your phone can send of you saying words, without you having to do it in person?”

“I know what a video is, Ned,” said Peter, rolling his eyes. “That’s an awesome idea!”

“What’re guys in the chair for?” said Ned.

It took Peter until Wednesday to finish with a script and a video take that he liked. He wasn’t anywhere special, just sitting on his couch after school. The phone had to be propped up against his Math and English books before he got it to a proper angle, but at least the lighting was reasonably decent. By take 9 Peter didn’t even need his script anymore, and it totally looked more sincere when he wasn’t reading off a paper. 

He shakily sent off take number 14 and just stared at his phone for a good 5 minutes. _Has he seen it? Is he watching it right now? What’s he going to say? He might be in a meeting; he might not even see it for hours._

Peter forced himself to do his Calculus problems while he waited, but every noise he heard made him jump towards the phone, heart pounding. By the time he ate dinner he was practically vibrating.

 

**Peter**  
_I sent the video 2 hours ago_

_He hasnt responded yet_

**May**  
_Who knows wht hes doing? Give the man sum time_

 **Peter**  
_Im going out on patrol. Will be back by 1  
(May has disliked this message)_

**May**  
_12\. Its a school nite :P_  
.  
.  
Tony was in Japan when he got the message. 

He’d told Pepper what had gone down with Peter and she had hugged him, told him not to feel too bad about himself, and immediately buried him in projects and meetings that he could lose himself in.

That woman knew him too well.

So Tony had been doing his best to not think about Peter’s expression when he’d stormed out of the tower. He had come up with a million better ways to subtly tell Peter “danger”, he’d fixed the window and caught up on paperwork and flew to Japan on Tuesday night to meet with his international shareholders’ committee. No matter what he was doing, though, Peter remained hovering in the back of his mind. Had the kid meant what he said? Tony knew he wasn’t the best at communication or showing affection, but he’d thought it was obvious that Peter meant more to him than some charity case. As for the rest of it… Tony hoped that he hadn’t proven himself to be exactly what the media said.

What if the kid never wanted to speak to him again? 

It was a bit of a shock to wake up at 5 AM to his phone making a racket. Honestly, Tony’s muddled, mostly-asleep brain barely registered enough to turn all the noise off before he immediately passed out again. When he woke up for the second time it was to the sound of his phone ringing insistently in his ear again. He glanced at it, only to sit up in a panic when he saw Pepper’s number displayed on the screen. 

“Yeah, uh… hey Pep,” he mumbled.

There was an audible sigh on the other end. “Tony, we’ve been over this. You can’t just keep using me as your alarm! There’s a meeting you need to be at in half an hour, and if you I hear you’ve missed it we will be having some serious words.”

“But I did set an alarm for this morning!” said Tony.

“Did you get up when it went off?”

“Uh…” Tony vaguely remembered shutting all his alarms off after that weird alert at an ungodly hour. “Shit.” Pepper was actually probably the only person that could have set his phone off on this setting.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Get up and go to your meeting. I’ll see you when you get home later, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, miss you too,” Tony told her. 

After hanging up the phone, Tony rolled out of bed and scrambled to get ready. He didn’t even think about the message he’d received until he was walking out of one of the most boring meetings he’d ever attended. Thumbing through his texts, he stopped dead when he realized that it was from Peter.

 _Of course._ Tony had set his phone to alert him if Peter contacted him in any way at any time after their fight, but he hadn’t seriously considered that the kid might reach out again. His hands shook a bit as he unlocked his phone to see what Peter had sent.

It was a video. As much as he wanted to watch it right away, Tony was standing in the middle of a random hallway. Instead he practically sprinted to his car, which was already stocked with his belongings for the flight back. He put up the privacy screen and pressed play with shaking fingers. 

Peter was sitting on his old couch, playing with his hands and obviously trying not to look nervous.

“Hi Mr. Stark,” he said. “You’re probably wondering why I sent a video instead of calling or something, but I didn’t know if you wanted to talk and I just wanted to get this out. So, um… yeah. The video thing was Ned’s idea, by the way.

“But anyway, I wanted to say that I’m sorry about all that stuff I said last week in your tower. I’m still upset at you, but none of that was true and I shouldn’t have said it. Uh… May and me talked it out the other day, and she basically told me we both need to suck it up and apologize if we want this relationship-thing to keep working. If you…” Peter hesitated. “You don’t seem to mind having me around too much, so if you want to make up too please send something? If not just tell me no and I’ll stop bothering you. I would be mad too after all that stuff I said.” 

The kid seemed to teeter on the edge of saying something else, but in the end he just looked up with big, anxious eyes and said, “Okay bye!” before reaching forward to shut off the camera. The video stopped.

Tony was pretty sure his brain short-circuited. _Peter_ was apologizing to _him?_ This kid was too good for the world. He stared at his phone for an embarrassingly long time before he hit the play button again, watching the message repeat itself. The kid clearly thought that he would never in a million years let Peter back into his life.

Tony has assumed it was the other way around.

If he could’ve called Peter right away he would have, but by the time he’d gotten his thoughts together they’d arrived at the airstrip. Delaying a plane, even his private jet, for a personal phone call was definitely not something Pepper would be impressed with. As a result Tony had the entire flight back to the States to mull over how his impending conversation with Peter might go. 

There weren’t many scenarios that ended well.

It was 12:30 in the afternoon when Tony’s jet landed, only about 20 minutes later than the time that he’d left in Japan. He never got over the strangeness of that commute. Luckily, Tony’s sleep schedule had already been out of whack before he’d flown to Japan, so he wasn’t as jet-lagged as he could have been. Tony deemed himself at least 70% awake and called Peter as soon as he set foot in his penthouse, praying that Peter was still on lunch break at school.

The phone rang once. 

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

_Click._

“Mr. Stark?” said Peter.

“Hey kid,” said Tony. His own voice sounded strangely raspy in his ears. “I got your message.”

“Yeah?” said Peter, voice cracking.

“Uh huh.” Tony started pacing back and forth. “Listen, kid, you have nothing to be sorry for, okay? I should’ve come up with something better to warn you with. That’s on me.”

“You’re wrong,” said Peter. Tony actually stopped walking. _What did that mean?_

Peter took a deep breath. “I was really mad at you, Mr. Stark, but that doesn’t mean I should have yelled at you. I just wanted to hurt back, you know?”

Tony choked out a laugh. “Some mentor I am, huh. I forgive you, Pete, there’s hardly a person alive who hasn’t accused me of whatever the press has said.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” said Peter. “You’re not like that at all. You’ve practically… well, I think you’re doing a pretty great job as a mentor, okay?”

“Whatever you say, kid,” Tony said, smiling sadly. “But I’m the one who really owes the apology here. Can you--Will you--I mean--”

“I forgive you too, Mr. Stark,” said Peter, sounding a little fond.

Tony collapsed onto his couch. “Oh thank God.” Peter laughed.

“I have to go soon, Mr. Stark. I told Mr. VanLoo this was an important internship call, but he’s totally giving me an evil eye through the window.”

“Shit, you’re not on lunch break? Sorry kid, do you want me to talk to him for a minute?” said Tony.

“No, that’s fine,” Peter said quickly. “I’ll, uh, see you around?”

“Come to the workshop tomorrow,” Tony told him. “I’d invite you today, but I literally just got off a plane from Japan and I don’t think I’ve slept more than about four hours at a time since I left on Tuesday.”

“I’ll look for Happy after school. Go to bed, Mr. Stark.”

“By kid.”

Tony ended the call and tossed his phone on the end table as he stretched out on the couch. Somehow he’d gone from mostly awake to eyes drooping over the course of the phone call, and Tony had an uncomfortable feeling that it had started around the time Peter had uttered the words “I forgive you”. His clothes were already travel-rumpled and they could be slept in a little more.

“Lower the lights, J,” he said, pulling a nearby throw blanket over himself and shutting his eyes for his best night of sleep in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess it was a good day for writing, especially with a gratuitous use of italics. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> As of now I have nothing else written, but please let me know if you would like any follow up chapters or other semi-related one-shots!


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